


"Betrayal."

by expolsion



Series: Peter + Arto [1]
Category: Counterpart - sara_holmes, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom, this is really just a fanfiction of a fanfiction so?
Genre: and this happened, so counterpart is a great fic yall?, the fic is not at all as serious as the title suggests don't worry that's just arto being dramatique
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 09:10:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13338054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/expolsion/pseuds/expolsion
Summary: What can I say, movie nights can be hell!





	"Betrayal."

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sara_holmes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sara_holmes/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Counterpart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1659452) by [sara_holmes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sara_holmes/pseuds/sara_holmes). 



> So I got inspired by [Counterpart](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1659452) and this happened
> 
> All based on my own experiences and what helps me calm down
> 
> (and it would only let me list a work as an inspiration but it's really the entire collection that I'm basing this off of)

Arto squeezed his eyes shut, as if that would help block out the elements of the world that were practically attacking him. It didn’t. Everything was still too loud, too bright, too… in-your-face. He clenched his jaw and tried to ignore it and focus on the movie everyone was watching, but he couldn’t do it for much longer. Something in him snapped, and he quickly got up from the couch and walked out of the room, barely short of running. He could hear Steve calling after him, but he clamped his hands to his ears, and ran up to his room. 

 

Everything was too damn LOUD. Good thing about being a rich kid was he had noise cancelling headphones, but he had to find them first… 

 

He ran around his room, practically ransacking the place, frantically looking for his headphones. The laundry on the floor was thrown to well… a different spot on the floor, he nearly ripped the sheets off his bed, and tore through his closet with reckless abandon.

 

He couldn’t find them. So he stopped. He stood in the center of his room with his arms wrapped tightly around his torso, on the verge of tears. He could hear his own breathing getting frantic and upset and he didn’t want to go there tonight. So, he grabbed his phone and his hoodie, and went in search of a quiet place.

 

* * *

 

He found himself in the gym. It was finally quiet enough that he could begin to hear himself think. The blue mats on the floor were almost gray in the moonlight that was flooding in from the floor to ceiling windows along the opposite sides of the gym. The ropes of the fighting ring cast eerie shadows on the wall, and the mirrors by the weights reflected everything, making the room seem double the size. Within seconds Arto entering the room, Jarvis turned on the lights. Arto let out a small cry and covered his eyes and then said, “J, lights off.” Jarvis seemed to notice that something was off, and didn’t respond. The lights were turned off, and the gym returned to its quiet gray and black tones in the night. 

 

Arto walked over to the thermostat and turned the temperature of the gym down to a cool 62°. Normally, he would’ve asked Jarvis to do it but today he could hardly bring himself to speak. He tugged the hoodie over his head and laid down on the floor, sprawled out in the center of the mats like a starfish.

 

He closed his eyes and let everything else float away. “Sensory overload”. It made sense, it just seemed dumb to him that a 15 year old kid would suddenly develop it, after years of it not being a problem.

 

He let the cool air wash over him, and took this rare time to think. Steve and Tony were probably going to be mad about him leaving during “family movie night” or whatever the fuck they wanted to call it, but he couldn’t bring himself to be upset. Maybe it was finally time to talk about it with them, although he really didn’t want to. They were going to worry and make a big deal out of it, and he didn’t want them to do that. Really, all he wanted was for this whole issue to go away. He groaned at the thought of the discussion that will follow tomorrow morning and scrubbed at his eyes with the palms of his hands. The rough material of the sweatshirt covering his hands made him feel slightly better. More real.

 

He turned his head to look out the window. Life would be so much easier, just to do this. To look out over the city and all its people, just observing and being. Not having to do anything, not have to be anything, to be able to just sit and watch where it’s quiet and cool and alone.

 

He stayed like that for a while. He lost track of time, but eventually he looked over at his other side and found that Bucky had sat down next to him. Shocked, Arto scrambled up off the floor and backpedaled until he was at least 5 feet away from his prior position. Bucky made no moves himself, just watched with his unreadable, unsettling eyes. Arto stared back, until finally Bucky spoke. 

“Your dads want to know what upset you.”

Arto didn’t respond.

“You’re sitting in the dark in the gym.”

“Astute observation. I can see why they made you a spy.” 

Bucky’s mouth quirked into an unsure partial smile. “Well, at least you’re talking now.”

He looked back out the window, and gestured to the space next to him previously occupied by Arto. “I don’t bite, you know.”

Arto made sure to look at him funny, but cautiously sat down next to him anyway. He brought his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, resting his chin on his knees and staring at the city.

“It’s much different than from when I was your age.” Bucky murmur.

Arto didn’t reply.

“Are you aware you’ve been here for at least two hours?”

Arto set his jaw and stubbornly didn’t answer.

“Why did you come down here?”

Now, for some odd reason, Arto  _ wanted  _ to answer this question. He looked over at Bucky whose face was basked in the gold lights of New York City, and suddenly realized he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to explain it.

“Everything is too… much.” He tried. Bucky’s expression didn’t change, but Arto could feel the confusion radiating off him.

“It’s like…” he began again, “I’m just trying to go about my day but everything is too loud and too bright and too… much.”

He dropped his forehead to his knees. “It’s really hard to explain. It’s called sensory overload, and all I can really articulate is that it’s a very fitting name.” 

“That’s why you left?”

Arto let out a deep sigh. “Yeah. The TV was too loud, the lights were too bright, even the whispers were too loud. I just had to get out of there.”

Bucky nodded slowly, understanding.

Arto barrelled on. “And I don’t want to tell Tony and Steve because they’ll worry like the fucking helicopter parents they are—don’t tell them I swore or I’m never talking to you again—and this is like a little kid’s thing! I’m not 6 anymore, this isn’t supposed to happen, and they better not be FUCKING LISTENING IN—” He raised his voice to a shout at the end of the phrase, telling any possible viewers (Tony!!) to stop spying. He took in a deep shuddering breath and shakily said, “I’m just tired of fighting my own body.” He could feel tears burning in his eyes. Embarrassed, he grabbed his phone off the mat and ran out of the gym, up all the stairs to his room, and fell onto his bed (which was still a disaster from the search for the headphones) and fell asleep in his clothes.

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning, he woke up to Steve standing in the doorway of his room, looking concerned. Arto did some quick mental calculations and when everything clicked, he was  _ pissed _ . Steve opened his mouth to speak, but Arto was already yelling

“Did Bucky tell you? HE WASN’T SUPPOSED TO TELL YOU! What a fucking RAT!” He shoved past Steve with all the strength he had and ran. Down all the flights of stairs to street level, and then out the door. 

 

He walked a few blocks further, then stopped to take account of what he had. He was still wearing the hoodie from last night, his phone was in the back pocket of his jeans, and when he stuck his hand into the pocket of his hoodie, he found 5 bucks and a Metrocard. He took out his phone and scrolled down to the contact that read “Peter Parker”, and hit call. He paced angrily in a small circle while he waiting for Peter to pick up the call. Finally, an exhausted sounding Peter picked up the phone. 

“ ‘ello?”

“Parker, it’s 11 o’clock in the morning, so you it’s your fault for not being up by now and you can’t blame me for waking you up.” As he spoke, he walked down the stairs into the nearest subway station, heading down towards the E train.

“Good morning to you too, Arto.” Peter said in an exasperated tone.

“Uh, so real talk now,” Arto began.

“Yeah, what’s up?” Peter said, sounding a bit more concerned now.

“I need to lay low at your house for a bit, I think I have, hmm, let me count, most of the adults at my home mad at me right now.”

“Uh, alright-” 

“Oh this is fantastic, because I’m already on my way to you and I don’t think I have a full fare on my card for the ride home.”

Peter chuckled. “You’re never prepared, are you?”

“Nope! So I’m hopping on the E now, I’ll probably be to you in an hour.”

“Alright, I’ll tell May you’re coming.”

“And, uh, could you maybe heat me up something to eat for breakfast? I kind of ran out of the tower in a huff like an idiot.”

“Only you, Arto, only you.”

Arto smiled and hung up. At least he had somewhere to go today.

 

* * *

 

 

He was welcomed to the Parker home with smiles and a hot plate of food, both of which he very much enjoyed. The rest of the day was spent fiddling around with Peter’s experiments. Arto was about as interested in engineering as he was with operas, which was to say, not very much. But you don’t live with Tony Stark for 9 years without picking up a few things.

 

Somewhere around 2 pm his phone died, but he wasn’t answering any of the text messages he was getting anyway, so who cares. 

 

Before he knew it, it was 5 pm and May was shouting, “Are you staying for dinner, dear?” to which he replied with some version of ‘of course’. Peter was lying in his bed staring up at the slats of the bunk bed above him and Arto was slowly spinning around in the swivel chair at Peter’s desk, when Peter asked, 

“So, why couldn’t you go home today?”

Arto stopped spinning. He thought for a minute, then said, “Betrayal.” 

Peter’s eyes went wide and he flipped onto his side to better stare at Arto. “Well, that’s a big accusation.”

“Well, it was a big deal to me.” he said, defensively. “He betrayed my trust.”

“What happened, though?” Peter probed.

Arto bit his lip, unsure of whether to tell Peter or not. He decided to just explain the whole thing.

 

“...and then Steve comes into my room this morning and I just  _ know _ Bucky told him because they’re ‘best friends’ or whatever, and I just lost it. I need to have my privacy, to be able to tell things to people who aren’t my parents, and not have my parents watching on cameras or being told directly. It’s just not fair.” 

Peter flopped back onto his bed. He took a minute to speak, seemingly formulating his words carefully. “Did you know,” he began, “That I get sensory overload too?”

Arto stared at him.

“Almost constanty, really.” he continued. “Ever since the spider bite. Heightened senses means I’m more susceptible to it now. So it may not be much, but at least you know you’re not alone in this. You get used to it eventually, develop techniques and coping mechanisms, ways to hide it. It’s still scary though. To me, at least.”

They both sat in silence for a minute. Then Peter spoke again.

“Your dads are good guys, Art. I know it seems scary to tell them, but they could probably really help you. Like a therapist, or something.”

Arto hated it, but Peter was probably right. “Thanks, Peter.” he said quietly. “Could I borrow your phone?”

Peter smiled, and reached over to his bedside table to grab his phone and toss it over to Arto. Arto gave a small smile in return and stepped into the hallway to dial a familiar number.

 

* * *

 

 

Steve walked up to behind the couch where Tony was sitting, doodling some new ideas on his StarkPad. “He’s finally ready.” Steve said.

Tony looked up. “He better know that May called us as soon as he got there, and that he can’t run away from us this easily.” 

Steve laughed, and leaned over the couch to plant a gentle kiss on Tony’s forehead. “Hmm, ‘fucking helicopter parents’? I’m sure he’s well aware.”

When Arto walked out of the Parker’s apartment building, he was greeted by Steve leaning against the car in his classic aviators and ball cap. “I hope you know you’re still grounded for running away like that.”

Arto rolled his eyes and got in the car.

 

* * *

 

 

Arto cautiously knocked on the bedroom door of his parents. Steve looked halfway alseep already, while Tony was just watching some TV. 

“What’s up, Art?” Steve asked, bleary-eyed.

He didn’t reply, just crawled up the center of their bed from the bottom and sat in the center. “I just wanted to talk to you guys about what happened yesterday.”

Tony hit mute on the TV. “We’re listening, kiddo.”

“So, uh, have you ever heard of sensory overload?”

Tony nodded. “Peter gets it, I specially designed his suit to combat that.”

“Well, I get it too. And that’s why I left last night. So please don’t be mad at me?” The last phrase came out almost like a question, as if he was unsure if that’s what he was actually asking. 

Tony reached out to squeeze Arto’s knee. “We’re not mad about that, we’re mad that you ran off and didn’t answer our texts. And next time, just tell us. We might be able to help.” 

Steve put a hand on his shoulder and said, "No matter what, we're always on your side. Remember that."

“I was just,” Arto began, unsure of how to put his thoughts into words. “Upset. I was upset that I talked to Bucky and he told you because I trusted him not to. That’s the main reason why I ran off.” 

Steve looked momentarily upset, but seemed to lose whatever argument was going on in his head. “That makes sense.” He said. “And I won’t make Bucky tell me things like that anymore. But don’t be mad at just him, he could tell I was concerned and then I wouldn’t let him be until he told me.” 

“Well!” Tony exclaimed. “I’m glad that’s settled now. But, it’s late, and I’m still making you go to school tomorrow, so you need to go to bed.” Arto groaned.

“No complaints!” Tony called after him as he got off the bed and left the room. 

“Rude!” Arto called in return, but he was pretty sure they had already turned on their soundproofing.

**Author's Note:**

> so uh i loved writing this? so if u like this b l e a s e hmu [@genderfluid-jaredkleinmann on tumblr](genderfluid-jaredkleinmann.tumblr.com) I would love to talk to anyone who is also a fan of this
> 
> EDIT 2-21-2018: so i'm back on my bullshit, writing another counterpart fic, so if anyone would want to read that over hmu (comment, or i'm on tumblr @genderfluid-jaredkleinmann) bc my friends have no clue what this is so if u like counterpart and would want to help me out !


End file.
